


Saved

by aces_mild



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Blood, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is mute, Reader uses sign language, Soft underfell, This is, after all, but nothing too crazy, its not something im known for, reader is an idiot who wanders into danger, some violence, wanted to try my hand at writing action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 01:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21007730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces_mild/pseuds/aces_mild
Summary: You decide to pay the forgotten King of Monsters a visit. Legends say he used to eat the humans that fell into the Underground, but that can't be true...right?Luckily you're not as alone as you think you are.





	Saved

**Author's Note:**

> it's not what i'm used to writing and probably in need of editing, but it's late and i'm tired and i've had this scene stuck in my head for a week solid so just...just take it. let me know if you liked it. enjoy~

When Papyrus told you that Asgore still lived Underground, you’d been surprised. What reason could the former King of all Monsters have for hiding himself away? The barrier had been broken, and monsters had been more or less accepted by humans. With plenty of resources to go around, they could live freely and non-violently. So why hide? Why stay in such a prison? 

Looking at it, you realize it’s because it’s not much of a prison at all. Even here, in the underground, a castle is still a castle. Though old and crumbling in places, it still serves as a reminder of his wealth, his success...or what little of it he has left after his downtrodden subjects abandoned him. 

You wonder if the King is truly content here, sitting on his hoard of dust-covered gold like a dragon, ruling over an empty cave.

You enter what you assume is the throne room - it barely took you any time to reach it from the cave entrance. Its floor is overgrown with bitter-smelling weeds, and the throne itself is cracked and covered in claw-marks. The walls are damaged in much the same way, but you can still see a mural up high. 

You crane your neck to look at the painting, which depicts the history of monsters and humans. It’s one you’ve seen before, though only in textbooks. You remember being thrilled by it when you were young, so sure that it was a depiction of triumph over evil. 

Now you know better.

It was your kind - humans who learned how to infuse items with monster magic - that sealed them underground so many years ago. Your teachers had cited ‘self-defense’ as the reason behind it. It was too dangerous to let them roam free, knowing what they could do if one of them absorbed a human SOUL. 

Your stomach turns with guilt. 

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear the King’s heavy footfalls as he approaches. It’s only once he speaks that you notice him.

“Hello, small one.” 

He looks down at you from his towering height. He’s easily ten feet tall, perhaps more, as his back is hunched significantly. He smiles weakly at you with uneven yellow teeth. His eyes are almost entirely white, in contrast with the dull gray of his overgrown fur. His twisted horns have grown such that he can no longer wear a crown atop his head. His clothes, once regal, are now ragged. He reeks. 

This is not the King you were told you would find here.

Still, you see no reason not to be polite. You bow to him, and introduce yourself using sign language. 

“A...human? Here?” He says, clearly confused. “How did you get past the Royal Guard…?” 

You begin to explain that it was, in fact, the Captain of the Royal Gaurd himself that told you where to find the King. Although...you’re almost certain Papyrus is the former Captain, given that the Royal Guard disbanded nearly two years ago.

You barely get two words in before Asgore cuts you off.

“It matters not. I will deal with you myself.”

For a brief moment after he speaks, you wonder what he means. Then, your unasked question is answered, more or less. Quicker than you expect from such a huge creature, he slams his palm against the side of your head and sends you hurtling face-first into the cold stone wall. 

You don’t quite feel the pain until you’ve hit the ground, somehow not only alive, but conscious. Your head throbs and you feel like you’re spinning. Something warm runs down the bridge of your nose.

You manage to open your eyes, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Asgore, the abandoned King of Monsters, hunches over you on all fours, his pale eyes taken over by huge, pitch-black, rectangular pupils. His teeth are bared, and seem much sharper now than they were moments ago. You can smell his rancid breath as he leans in.

You realize with a cold dread that this is what true blood-lust looks like. 

You want to move. You want to fight, to run, to call out for help, but you can’t. You squeeze your eyes shut again, frightened tears leaking from the corners.

You know what comes next. 

...But it doesn’t. 

Even with your eyes closed as tight as you can get them, you still see the brilliant flash of light. The beast above you screams, and is abruptly thrown across the room - you hear him land heavily on the far side, a gutteral noise emanating from his throat.

Suddenly able to move your body again, you turn over onto your stomach and raise yourself to your knees. Though you can’t seem to focus your eyes, you still see a small dark puddle on the throne room floor, and a pitch-black drop falls from the tip of your nose. You bring your hand to your face and feel around, finding your nose unbroken, but a large painful gash on your forehead. It stings, but you bunch up the sleeve of your shirt and press it to the wound anyway. 

Someone says your name, and you raise your head - slowly, to avoid making yourself dizzy. It’s Sans. He’s put himself between you and the now-cowering King. You realize the light from before must have been his magic, which he used to blind and stun the much larger monster for a few moments - just long enough to take hold of his SOUL and fling him across the room. 

Why is he here? Where did he come from…? You’d need two hands and several spare moments to ask, so you don’t. Those are questions that can be answered later, when you’re not in mortal danger. 

The King, or the creature that once was King, begins to right himself, rubbing at his eyes. 

“can ya stand?” Sans asks, without taking his eye-lights off the feral king. 

You have no idea. You brace yourself against the wall and extend your shaking legs, barely able to support your weight. You can already feel your knees giving out. 

Sans glances at you from the corner of his eye socket and, still facing Asgore, reaches a hand out behind him for you to take. “c’mere.”

You stumble away from the wall and latch onto his outstretched arm, using it to keep you from falling. Sans doesn’t seem at all bothered by you putting your entire weight on him, catching you easily and pulling you to his side. “imma need ya to hold tight, ‘kay?” 

You nod, wrapping your arms around his wide ribcage and taking fistfuls of his jacket. You bury your face in his jacket, too, knowing that he intends to teleport. It wasn’t an overwhelmingly pleasant experience the last time, and while you’re already pretty disoriented, you’d rather not make it worse by keeping your eyes open. 

You hear garbled words, which you assume is the King coming back to his senses. There’s heavy breathing, the scrabbling of claws on stone, one last terrifying roar, and then…

Birdsong. The rustle of the wind through leaves. The distant sound of a bustling city. 

Sans lets out a sigh of relief. 

He takes his arm away, expecting you to step back, but you don’t. You can’t. You know that if you let go of him, you’ll collapse, and he’d just have to catch you again. You figure you’ll spare him the effort by simply refusing to let go. 

He doesn’t seem to mind. 

“i gotcha, i gotcha…”

He puts his arm back around you, and hooks the other one under your knees. He carries you a short distance before settling himself down under a nearby tree, with you in his lap. 

You finally release his jacket, though you find it difficult to unclench your hands. You sit back, and let the world come into focus around you. 

You couldn’t get a good look at his face while in the castle. It was too dark, and he was facing away from you. Here, though, you can finally see that he’s rather worked up - not nearly as calm and collected as he’d seemed. His face is a dull red from overusing his magic, and his entire skull is covered in a thin sheen of...sweat? His eye-lights are small from fear...or maybe stress? His toothy grin is missing, and there’s a concerned frown in its place as he takes in the cut on your forehead.

You reach up with your clean [ish] sleeve to check if it’s still bleeding, and pull away with a few spots of blood. You wince, wondering if you’ll need stitches, or if it’ll leave a scar...you figure it will. 

You’re contemplating how to cover it with your hair when Sans gently takes your chin in his hand. 

“lemme see it.”

He turns your face to him, and puts his other hand over the gash. You’re surprised when you see the soothing green glow of healing magic. You honestly had no idea Sans could heal. Maybe he learned from Toriel? 

You squirm a bit as the wound seals itself, unaccustomed to the strange, itchy sensation. 

When he’s done, he pulls his hands away. His concern dissipates when he sees that he’s done a thorough job. “there. good as new.”

You feel your forehead, and find that he’s right. Not even a scratch is left. Your eyes start to well up. You’re sure that even if you could speak, you wouldn’t be able to find the words to thank him for helping...protecting...saving you. 

“hey, hey, what’s wrong with you now!?” he asks, alarmed. 

You tell him you’re not hurt, just overwhelmed. You sign ‘thank you’ more times than you can count, and end up making yourself dizzy. You realize, with some embarrassment, that sealing a wound shut doesn’t put blood back in your body - and you’ve lost quite a bit of it. 

You tell Sans as much. 

“that all? don’t sweat it, sweetheart. we can chill here till ya feel better.” he leans back against the tree, bringing you with him so that your head rests in the crook of his shoulder. “take yer time.”

Despite everything, you feel very comfortable...and suddenly very, very fond of Sans. You don’t bother reigning yourself in, deciding to blame your actions on blood loss if he questions you later. You press a chaste kiss to his jaw before settling in for nap.


End file.
